


Perfect Imperfection

by koroshiyas (lucitae)



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Angst, M/M, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-02
Updated: 2017-09-02
Packaged: 2018-12-22 00:10:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11955624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucitae/pseuds/koroshiyas
Summary: The last thing Yixing remembers is a boy, dripping wet, yelling for help and something about a man drowning.





	Perfect Imperfection

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thanhbear](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thanhbear/gifts).



> Happy Birthday my friend! I debated back and forth as to what would bring you as much joy as you brought me and ended up with this. I wish for many things but I mostly hope you have a wonderful birthday and a prosperous year ahead.
> 
> I apologize for this un-beta'd mess.

The last thing Yixing remembers is a boy, dripping wet, yelling for help and something about a man drowning. At least Yixing managed to save someone in this short, sorry life of his. He finds peace in that and closes his eyes.

 

 

 

Death is awfully peaceful, Yixing thinks. He can hear the rustle of leaves from a gentle breeze. There's a faint trace of incense and Yixing is delighted to be remembered. His stomach grumbles. He thinks nothing of it, remembering the tales of ghosts and the month of seven. He's just hoping he turned out to be one of the kinder ones.

But the pressure on his hand tells him otherwise. Ghosts don't _feel_ , do they? 

He cracks open an eye. There's a person to his side, in an outfit so outdated Yixing figures he's been transported to the set of some historical drama, asleep with Yixing's hand trapped between his.

He takes a look around, noting the furniture, the wooden beams, the papered door and laughs ( wincing as he does it ). Either this is some kind of joke or afterlife is modeled after ancient China, home to the gods of old.

The figure to his side stirs, trying to blink away sleep as he looks at Yixing. A groggy expression quickly transforms into one of delight with a smile so bright it almost makes Yixing's heart skip a beat at the notion of someone this excited to see him.

"Yeheung... I thought..." the man says while reaching for Yixing, voice fractured, fingers brushing against his cheek. Slender, thin ( beautiful, his brain unhelpfully supplies ) as if these hands have never seen worse days and properly cared for. Yixing frowns.

"Who...?" Yixing asks but his voice comes out all raspy as if it hasn't been used for a while. The frown deepens. "Where am I?"

The man's face starts to mirror his own, brows furrow, the corners of the lips pull down.

"What's the last thing you remember?"

 _Drowning_ , Yixing wants to say but there is something off kilter about this entire exchange so he shakes his head instead.

"Do you know who I am?" the question comes out barely audible, gentle even if Yixing had to describe it.

Yixing feels like an unwelcome guest. The expression on the man's face makes Yixing turn away and shakes his head once more.

( If this is his second chance, why does it feel like he would be better off dead? )

 

 

 

There's a few things Yixing learns after the man leaves with a crestfallen face. His abdomen is black and blue, apparently from falling off a horse that also stepped on him. He's been in a coma for months now and everyone had lost hope of him ever waking up ( except for that man in the baby blue robe who, despite the prognosis, had returned to his side every day and waited for signs of consciousness ). He's woken up in someone else's nightmare, Yixing is sure of it, inherited a life he has no inkling about.

At least that's the conclusion he draws after meeting with his physician who was smuggled in and sworn to secrecy. 

"He's usually not like this," the physician named Joonmyeon explains, gesturing at the door, implying the man from earlier. "He lost all his laughter while waiting for you to wake."

Yixing winces as Joonmyeon busies himself with the bandages wrapped around Yixing. "Ah right, you don't remember who I am," Joonmyeon smiles warmly, with good nature, as he continues to fill the silence with idle chatter: "it happens. Losing your memories after a concussion. I'm sure you'll get them back."

Yixing's smile is mirthless. He doesn't want to shatter the optimism but he's certain the memories aren't  _lost_.

 

 

 

It knocks the breath out Yixing just to sit up. Maybe this is eternal punishment. Feels like it too but his instincts tell him that it's not. It's amazing how his instincts aren't as disoriented as the rest of him. None of this makes sense. Why couldn't a second chance still be him in his own body? Why did it have to mimic some badly written drama? ( And why does the man that stares back at him in the bronzed mirror look so much like him? )

It's the third day since he's woken up in this room. The windows are cracked enough to let a gentle breeze in. Someone has replaced the flowers in the vase. There's food set on the table, too far to reach for a man still waiting for his ribs to repair. There are signs he's cared for but the man hasn't returned since the day Yixing woke up.

Yixing sighs and allows his body to fall back down.

This time he dreams of bright lights, water beneath his feet, center stage: a solo.

 

 

 

The choreography is lost to him when he wakes.

"You haven't been eating," the man points out, arms folded, this time in a lilac robe. There's concern in his eyes and Yixing wonders why. The person this man cares for has had their body snatched by a stranger, what could be worse than this?

Yixing closes his eyes again, weighed down by an awful twinge in his chest.

There's a rustle and Yixing thinks that maybe the man has finally given up and left.

The bed sinks slightly under the weight of another human.

"Eat," the man coaxes as he helps Yixing sit up.

Yixing does as he's told.

 

 

 

"Tell me your name," the man says after Yixing has finished eating with the warmth of tea curled in his chest.

"I don't —" Yixing begins but is cut off quickly.

"You don't have to pretend that you're him."

"What made you think that?" Yixing asks, curious.

The man stares at his hands before looking up at Yixing. "Even if someone loses their memories that doesn't mean everything about them will change?" There's still a hopeful note attached to it. "But you feel like a different person."

Yixing bows his head. Since when did second chances mean taking someone else's?

"My name is Zhang Yixing."

The man nods.

"If it is all right with you, could you tell me about him?" Yixing points at his body.

The man's eyes soften.

"Yeheung is my guard, gifted to me when I was seven." The man begins and Yixing starts to learn about the body he occupies. Yeheung was orphaned due to war and border skirmishes, saved and indebted to the general that pardoned him and the other children in the village — in exchange for working for him. Something about loyalest men come from those without anything to give ( the man laughs without humor and an edge of rage ). Not that he understood when he was younger. The guard was impeccable in every way, serving as the man's playmate, indulging the whims that usually got him lashes on the back of the legs or his backs ( Yixing can still trace the scars the body bears ). "And then..." Yixing watches as the man bursts into laughter in recollecting a particular fond memory, eyes crinkling. Yixing finds it hard to breathe but tries not to show it, nodding along, smiling as he listens to the man finish his story. 

"He got injured because of me," the man turns somber, "it happened all too quickly but the poisoned arrow was probably aimed at me or my horse. He got in the way. His horse got shot and bucked him off. And now here we are." He gestures with a sweep of his arms.

It isn't Yixing's place to make remarks so he doesn't.

"What about you?" the man asks, brightening up, eager to change the topic of conversation. "Where are you from?"

"What year is this?" The man cocks his head so Yixing tries again. "Who is the king?" But even when he hears the answer ( "my father" followed by a name ) he still has no idea so he says instead: "It is probably hard to believe but the future." Yixing tells the man of drowning, of his aspirations, and the slump during multiple rejections by various academies. He tells this man more than he's ever told anyone else. The man takes it all in stride and serves Yixing another cup of tea in the middle of it.

 

 

 

"I've never properly introduced myself, have I?" the man asks before leaving Yixing for the night. His hand is propped against the door frame, head turned back to face him.

Yixing shakes his head.

"Baekhyun," the man says, "you may call me Baekhyun when we are alone, Yixing."

"Of course," Yixing adds with a polite nod of the head.

 

 

 

"Is there something you wish to say to me?" Yixing asks one evening when Baekhyun hasn't flipped a page in the book for minutes.

Baekhyun opens his mouth then closes it before brushing his robes once, with flourish, and folding his hands properly.

"Will you do me a favor?"

"Depends on what is is."

"Joonmyeon says you are recovering," Baekhyun sounds oddly careful so Yixing waits patiently, "and I was wondering if you could pretend to be him. Pretend to be Yeheung." There's a lapse of silence so Baekhyun quickly adds with a smile: "all you have to do is stand by me and occasionally scowl."

What right does Yixing have to refuse in this body and the responsibilities attached to it? So Yixing mirrors Baekhyun's smile and answers: "Of course, your highness."

 

 

 

When Yixing recovers, Baekhyun drags him to the stables, showing him his guard's favorite steed. After a palace tour, Yixing finds himself dragged to the training grounds where he meets his supposed friends. "They think it's memory loss," Baekhyun explains quickly while waving, "I asked them to retrain you just in case you lost your touch during those bedridden months." And then he disappears, leaving Yixing to fend for himself with apologies.

It's the tenth time Yixing has his ass handed to him, so he stays on the ground, rubbing his back.

"You seem to be getting the hang of it," Sehun comments with a grin and Yixing gives him a look. "Back me up, Jongin," he says, laughing.

"Maybe your body remembers?" Jongin offers with a hand to help Yixing up. Yixing takes it.

"Maybe," Yixing echoes as he gets himself ready for another round.

 

 

 

A fortnight of training and Yixing has finally gotten to the point where he can be dismissed after defeating one of the two. It's still early in the day so he roams the garden, admiring the lilies idly drifting atop the pond, stopping to watch the carp swim. A pretty melody begins in his vicinity and Yixing decides to follow on a whim.

The path there is beautiful but nothing compared to the sweet song. Yixing ends up on a pavilion. Baekhyun stands before him, eyes closed, playing a set of pipes in that same baby blue robe he wore when Yixing first met him.

It takes another minute before the song ends.

"It's beautiful," Yixing comments when Baekhyun wraps up and the man beams at Yixing.

"Didn't you mention that you danced?" Baekhyun asks, eyes sparkling and Yixing brushes it off as an effect of the sun.

It's been forever since he's tried and if he is this rusty in a body that is used to martial arts, he doesn't dare imagine how he would look dancing. "Maybe next time," Yixing says, gently. "Maybe when I've healed more than I have now."

He pretends he doesn't see the disappointment in Baekhyun's eyes.

"Fine," Baekhyun says, bottom lip jutting out.

"I've love to hear you play another," Yixing mentions. It brings a smile back onto Baekhyun's face and he gestures for Yixing to sit.

Baekhyun plays another three songs while Yixing prepares tea for them to enjoy in between each.

 

 

 

The prince laughs merrily in the day, starts a game of tag with the maids, skip stones in the pond, or plays card with anyone he can find ( it usually ends up being Yixing ). Once the sun sets and everyone is getting ready for bed, he studies studiously by candlelight, hunched over ancient texts, trying to grasp the wisdom between words. Yixing takes note of all this.

Today, Baekhyun studies in Yixing's quarters. His brows furrowed, lips pulled into a pout, furiously jotting notes to the side, and mumbling to himself.

He yawns, big and dramatic, so Yixing decides to ask: "why don't you study during the day?"

"Because," Baekhyun begins, "they'll have my head. Because they'll find ways to dispose of me like they tried to do." Baekhyun gestures at Yixing. "I have to be controllable, a ready to use puppet that won't resist. What better way to pretend to be one than being a fool?"

"Then why do you study?" Yixing asks despite guessing at the answer.

"It's my country. My people. If I manage to fool them long enough, maybe I'll get to see the day when I'm in power and change things. But I have to play it right," he says, spreading his hands like the deck of cards earlier that day, "if I'm too foolish and the rumors begin, I'll get replaced anyway. There's a fine line." The smile Baekhyun offers is sad, depressing even.

Yixing resists the urge to reach over and put his hand on top of Baekhyun's.

"Isn't it tiring?"

"If you ask anyone else that, they would say that I'm not the one with the short end of the stick." There's a pause. "Besides, all of these are paper plans, who knows if it'll be useful when applied." And then a quieter: "How would I ever know if I'm stuck within these walls?"

"Then why don't we go? Explore, that is," Yixing suggests.

He's met with a fit of laughter. "The two of us? Neither of us know what it is like beyond these walls. We would get lost."

The laughter dies as he returns to his studies.

A moment later Baekhyun whispers from behind his book: "Let's do it."

 

 

 

The streets are bustling with activity in a way that is disorienting. Yixing finds himself sticking next to Baekhyun despite both being overwhelmed ( and lost ). Vendors call out to shoppers, asking them to come closer for cheap prices and good quality products. Conversations overlap with each other, each noise trying to compete to be heard. It's lively but the true joy comes from how happy Baekhyun seems while mingling with the crowd.

They sample food from countless vendors and Baekhyun ends up with a collection of trinkets.

( Each trinket was dedicated to a friend in the palace until Yixing commented that 1) They would find out about the escape 2) They probably had more exposure to these items than Baekhyun had. )

 

"Next time," Baekhyun says when all their food had been finished, "let's borrow horses from the stables and head off to the countryside. Or the mountains."

Yixing sips the wine the local inn fermented. "Next time?" he asks amused.

Baekhyun nods. "Next time," he repeats, "we'll bring my pipes, maybe brushes and paint and a canvas. I'll paint while immersed in nature and you'll finally dance to a song I play, like you promised."

Yixing hides his smile behind the porcelain cup. "Next time," he promises.

 

 

 

Yixing remembers the festivals back home. It's nothing compared to this. He's been told that famous entertainers, nationwide, have gathered to perform. Tons of meat has been laid out before the guests with an unlimited refill of wine. The crowd is both rambunctious and polite in the face of the ruling family. All this to celebrate Baekhyun pouring wine into the ground earlier today.

Yixing sits in the corner, observing. The friends he had made, laughing and drunk, falling into each other. Yixing thinks it's nice and takes another sip of wine.

Baekhyun sits by his father, seemingly uncomfortable as his father gestures at a girl — back straight, a single braid down her back, and expressionless. Baekhyun shakes his head twice and pours more alcohol into his father's cup to distract him. It works until the king pours wine into Baekhyun's cup and gestures for him to drink up.

Yixing turns away to watch the performance unfold before him.

 

By the time the festival ends, the courtyard is a mess, Baekhyun has managed to find Yixing in the dispersing crowd. He latches on and doesn't let go, cheeks red, laughing into the night as his words slur. Yixing barely manages to make out what Baekhyun is saying as he steers the prince towards sleeping quarters. When they arrive, Baekhyun has turned to mumbling his complaints about his father and the audacity of trying to find a partner for him at this day and age.

Yixing sets him down carefully. Baekhyun finds it in him to drag Yixing down and then tuckers out, choosing to use Yixing's shoulder as a pillow.

"All I need is you."

The words are barely recognizable, said like an afterthought. Yixing knows what it means. ( He'd be lying if he said he didn't wish it meant something else instead. )

Yixing sits there wondering if he could enjoy this borrowed happiness.

 

 

 

The crescent moon hangs above the clouds. The sky appears starless. Yixing wishes he has paper to burn instead of these rocks to pile up, it would bring him more peace if it was the former rather than the latter, but one ought to do as local customs deem them to. Yixing places another stone on top of the pile.

"Forgive me, Yeheung," he begins as he closes his eyes and bows his head in prayer, "allow me to watch over him."

(  _Allow me to stay by his side._ )

**Author's Note:**

> This idea stemmed out of watching Moon Lovers and Moonlight Drawn by Clouds at the same time (terrible idea, do not recommend). Re-edited to make this pairing work yet characterizations are still far from satisfactory. A lot of time passes between one scene and the next.
> 
> I'm uncreative when coming up with new names so anyone who knows Korean probably caught on that the original guard's name (Yeheung) is just the hangul pronunciation of 藝興.


End file.
